Haunted
by Alma Fenix
Summary: Two years after the flight, Lisa makes some significant changes to her life. Jackson and Lisa are still haunted by the past. WARNING: Strong language and violence. Yes, it's a cheesy shipper fic. I couldn't help myself. Review if you want.
1. Chapter 1

**Haunted**

**Chapter 1**

DISCLAIMER:All right, you know the drill, I don't own them, I kidnapped them and will give them back shortly. However, I wouldn't mind Cillian for a day… if it helps I have the same first name as your wife! Call me? No? Okay (pouty face).

* * *

A petite handgun glared at her from the depths of her tiny black purse. She shot a hasty glance over her shoulder to empty shadows. Her fingers fumbled the keys. The car door flew open and she whipped into the driver's seat, slamming the lock behind her. She sighed. Another night ended, safely tucked in her Taurus.

Her headlights beamed through the icy haze, and brightened the ghostly parking lot. Invisible snowflakes danced in the columns and dropped daintily on the windshield. She loosened the black suede gloves from her hands and placed them neatly on her purse. Lisa missed the sloppy, warm, wet weather of Miami.

The Taurus glided carefully through the twists and blind turns of a vacant rural road. Her only reminder of the civilized world was the occasional oasis; a bright, neon lit bar with a gravel parking lot. None quite so chic as to offer a bay breeze, or sea breeze, or whatever. Some classy enough to include a flashing letter-change sign with "Go Devils" and the current Powerball jackpot glowing through the night. She drove on.

The trees and blackness became increasingly familiar. She saw her markers, a yellow 'T' intersection sign and a rusty black mailbox. Lisa watched the left edge of the road and gently slowed. Her lonely dirt road rolled from the darkness, and she eased the car from the pavement. She guided the tiny Taurus over dips, ruts, gravel and holes to the end of her driveway. The car jostled left to right, and crunched down the winding hill. As the blue vehicle approached a dimly lit porch, a glaring spotlight winked on.

She turned the car off and stepped into the frigid night air. Lisa sighed with relief. The anxious amber eyes of a bulky German shepherd glowed from behind her curtained glass doors. She unraveled as she walked in the door. The wool coat unbuttoned and draped loosely on the coat rack. Her sensible black pumps tumbled heavily on the floor with a light 'thunk.' Her hair untwined from a neat French Twist to flowing tresses. And her dog, Bruce, climbed on her to sniff a quick, "Hello." Friday night, Lisa was home.

She glanced at herself in the bathroom mirror as she made her way to the warmth of her bedroom. Lisa was accustomed now to the straight golden locks that framed her face. The pictures on the wall, her as a brunette and her father on the bow of a boat over a glittering blue ocean, were alien. The Lisa in those photos was gone. She snuggled into a plushy feather-down comforter and closed her eyes. Bruce whimpered and coiled into the crook of her knees. He panted and shook the bed, vigilantly studying the door. Hopefully tonight she would get some sleep.

As the glowing green clock flipped to ten-thirty, it screeched maddeningly, jerking her from slumber. Lisa tapped the "Snooze" and dropped to her pillow, snoring. Bruce perked his ears as she stirred. He rose and edged cautiously to her face. The dog's tongue lapped her cheek sloppily and she squinted in its slimy embrace.

"Alright, alright… I had to get up anyway," she groaned. The German shepherd sprang to life and leapt from the bed. Patiently he watched, swishing his tail as she slowly swung her feet over the bedside. She stretched lazily and shook the fog from her head. With a flick, she silenced her alarm for the day. Bruce was anxious to start his routine, and she had to get to class.

After a long wait for Bruce's return, she assembled her crisp white uniform. The blouse fell neatly over her head, and she fastened it with a bright blue belt. Lisa twirled her hair into a quick bun and slipped sneakers on her feet. She stuffed her red gym bag with a water bottle, shower supplies, and her Kim's Karate ID badge, and flew out the door. Bruce watched the Taurus back out of its spot, and rested his head on his massive paws with a loud sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Las Vegas Strip crawled with tourists and valets. Flashing neon and glittering lights sparkled on the cab windshield as it cruised by. The night sky glowed fluorescent pink and tangerine orange. Jackson watched the crowds in gruff silence from the backseat, a black laptop case resting on his knees. He despised tourists.

"Here we are," the cab driver chimed as he pulled to the curb, "It'll be… er… $47.50"

Jackson rolled his eyes and flicked the bills over the seat. Curtly, he swung the door open and growled, "Keep the change." He snatched his laptop and slammed the door.

Slot machines chimed from behind the velvet-roped casino. The elegant lobby swelled with hotel guests and day-trippers. Women in expensive dresses dribbled from the arms of lucky gamblers. Their dazzling pearl teeth never lost behind smooth crimson lips. Jackson stalked to the counter, ignoring them.

"Welcome to the Desert Sa…" declared the chipper young blonde behind the counter.

"One, Nonsmoking, I don't care where, but I need an internet connection." Jackson interrupted. His joyless tone sobered the girl instantly.

"Right…" she sighed solemnly, and proceeded to fulfill his wishes. Jackson spun around anxiously, and scoured the crowded lobby. _That stupid son of a bitch must be here somewhere_, he thought.No sign. After he checked in, he glanced in the casino. Still nothing.

"Well Jackson," he heard a raspy male voice snicker behind him, "So, how long's it been?"

Jackson whirled around, and came face to face with a man, bald and rotund, smiling at him in a cheap grey suit.

He smiled. "Mason, you fat bastard. I thought you weren't gonna show." With that, he cheerily extended his hand, and his companion shook it heartily.

"Well, a job's a job," the man proclaimed.

Jackson paused. _Jo_b? His blood simmered.

"So what do you have for me," Jackson quizzed, melting his smile.

Mason ducked his head and brought a crooked finger behind his ear to scratch. "Shouldn't we get a few drinks… you know, someplace quiet?"

"Sure," Jackson huffed. His irritated manner was restored.

In a secluded corner of the darkened hotel bar, Jackson and Mason ducked into the shadows and continued their conversation.

"So," Mason started as he swished whiskey absentmindedly in its glass, "This Keefe thing was a big fuck up, everybody knows that… And, it looks like you're walkin' okay."

"The miracles of modern medicine," Jackson quipped.

"So, security's tighter now, a lot of space age crap. Oh, and we found your girl too." Mason took a swig and gently placed the glass on the bar.

Jackson's azure eyes shimmered with a glint of forgotten rage. He blinked. "Leese?"

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore. You've got bigger shit to take care of right now. Pete says he'll email you part of your new assignment, and they'll call you with the little details later. You know the drill."

"Lisa…" Jackson echoed coldly. A faint smile twisted his lips.

"Jackson," Mason sighed, "we have an appointment. The powers that be want to have a word with you. We should go."

Jackson glared at his associate. _So this is what it's come to_. The two men stood and set their tips on the bar.

Mason's black Lexus made its way to the edge of Las Vegas, to the shadowy desert mountains. The city sparkled in the rear view mirror. With a sudden jerk, Mason pulled the car to the side of the road and silenced the engine.

"They'll be here any minute. Might as well get out and stretch your legs."

Jackson sparked furiously at Mason as the large man climbed out of the car. _Does he really think I'm that stupid_, he thought. Jackson sighed impatiently and stepped out into the darkness. He shook his head.

"So, what do they want with me?" Jackson urged Mason.

"Well Jackson… they want you to do something for 'em," Mason replied leaning on the driver's side as he reached silently into his jacket pocket.

Jackson sniffed and kicked the dusty ground crossly. "What's that?"

"They want you to die…" Mason whirled around. His arm rose. The gun in his hand gleamed. A flash lit the desert night. A piercing crash echoed to the distant mountains.

Jackson strolled casually around the silent car to Mason. The plump man struggled helplessly on the ground, cradling his bleeding arm. His gun lay useless in the dust.

"What the fuck, Jackson… when did you start carrying that thing?" Mason pulled his hand from his mangled flesh and spat at Jackson. "You're a lousy fucking shot, you know that?"

Jackson tilted his head spitefully, kicking the gun further out of Mason's reach. "And you are a lousy fucking liar." Jackson raised his gun to his face. Mason's lip quivered as the barrel tapped his forehead. "I almost bought the assignment routine, but you couldn't keep a secret if you tried. Talk fat-ass. Where is she? I know you weren't lying about that."

Mason pleaded, "L-l-eslie?"

"Lisa…" Jackson corrected. His thoughts seemed to trail.

"Whatever, the little bitch that fucked up your life …"

"You know Mason, even I can't miss from this distance," he snarled as he pressed the gun firm against his forehead. His icy eyes sparkled with madness. "Talk!"

"Hillsdale… some fucking Podunk town in West Virginia. Look, what the fuck do you care? They just want to clean up your fucking mess."

Jackson stood, releasing his associate. He paced nervously in the city's glow. _Clean up?_

"Fuck Jackson, that bitch fucked you up…" Mason cried. Jackson stopped and glared at him. His nostrils flared.

"You think so?" he hissed through clenched fangs. The gun trailed back to Mason. Absently, his free hand pawed the button scar on his neck.

The two men stared at each other intensely. Mason broke the uncomfortable silence.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"What?" gasped Jackson. His face contorted with annoyance.

Mason motioned. "About the girl, how'd you know that wasn't a lie?"

Jackson rolled his eyes, "First of all, I know you too well. Second, even if I thought it was before, you just told me it wasn't. Dammit Mason. I do this for a living!"

"Not anymore asshole. And hey, if you don't believe me, her fucking file is sitting in the back seat… Look for yourself!" Jackson stood, staring at the helpless man.

"I don't buy it…" Mason mumbled.

Jackson's brow wrinkled as his head leaned. His eyes glinted with angry confusion. "Buy what, Mason?" Jackson demanded.

Mason turned to smile devilishly at his old friend. "And you say I'm a lousy fucking liar…" Jackson twisted further, his eyes more annoyed.

"I don't buy the whole 'vengeance is mine' bit for you… you're too level headed for that shit. I think there's more to it."

Jackson winced. His arm dropped. His eyes, once fixed on his fallen comrade, jumped doubtfully to the side. He melted and softened, unexpectedly off guard. Mason chuckled.

"Hey, I don't blame ya pretty boy," the large man sneered, "she's a nice piece of ass. I was thinkin' after I was done burying your carcass, I could pay her a little visit." Mason winked and clicked his cheek lewdly. He smiled with satisfaction as Jackson's rage blazed again. His ice eyes burned through Mason with cold fire.

"You never did know when to shut up," Jackson spat.

"I was thinking she could pray for daddy, and you could watch. Then I'd feed your sorry ass to her fucking dog. How'd you like that?"

"Fuck you Mason," Jackson cursed, and raised his gun. He fired. The flash lit his tortured face, and the crash crushed his ears. Jackson stared ferociously at Mason, whose skull now splattered the ground. He sobered.

_Why send Mason, of all people? He's an ass._

"Lisa…" he sighed, and a venomous smile twisted his lips once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mary Sue's was the only place in town for a decent cup of coffee. Lisa regularly stopped in on Sunday afternoons after the church crowds cleared. She sat quietly at the lunch counter, sipping a steaming cup, one cream one sugar. Mary Sue herself often smiled and conversed with her. This Sunday was no exception.

As Lisa slipped into the sunny diner, Mary Sue greeted her with a friendly grin. Her fragile, elderly frame moved slowly to get Lisa's usual. Her hair frayed to catch the sunlight in a silver halo. She placed the coffee mug in front of Lisa, and poured in arthritic slow motion. Mary Sue's thin, age spotted hands shook.

"So nice to see you again sweetie," the old woman said warmly.

Lisa smiled. "Where else would I go for the best coffee in Hillsdale?"

"Lisa, I was thinking about you the other day. It must be hard being new in town. How long have you been here?"

Lisa's memory of the time past blurred. "Mmm, a year and a half, maybe," she questioned. Mary Sue smiled at her.

"Do you know many people in town?" she asked. Lisa gave her a knowing look. _Cut to the chase…_

"Just you, Mary Sue. And that's all I need." She teased the older woman, hoping she would take the bait.

"You know," Mary Sue started with sudden delight, "I could have my son take you out to dinner!" _And there's the catch_, Lisa thought. As gossip would have it, this woman, sweet and frail, always worried that her youngest son Donald would die unmarried and childless. In her younger days, she would have tried to play matchmaker more covertly, so the rumors say. Now, she's just too old for games. And it certainly wasn't the first time she tried to set up Lisa.

Lisa giggled silently into her coffee.

"I don't know Mary; I kind of enjoy quiet evenings with Bruce." Lisa sipped the hot coffee delicately.

"Oh Leese," the old woman complained, "I'd like to know… what turned you into such a loner?"

Lisa stopped. Her eyes widened. Suddenly, the coffee scalded, as did the remark. The words echoed in her mind, transforming from the brittle old woman's voice to a chilling masculine. She found herself staring at intense blue eyes, captive in a window seat.

"Lisa? Are you alright? You need to breathe sweetheart…" Mary Sue interrupted the flood of memory. Lisa snapped back to consciousness, abruptly aware of the gasping ache in her chest.

"Are you sure I shouldn't talk to Donnie?" insisted Mary Sue.

"Maybe some other time. Thanks." The two women didn't talk after that. She timidly finished her coffee and left.

The drive home seemed perilous through her burning tears. The sunlit Sunday roads twisted pitilessly in front of her. Lisa screeched the tires dangerously down the back roads of West Virginia. Those blue eyes, powerful and menacing, blinded her. She remembered every glint of emotion in those eyes. Boredom, concern, sympathy, and ceaseless rage. Those eyes haunted her nightmares and tormented her daydreams. Those eyes…

Lisa jerked from despair. Trees sped toward the Taurus as she overshot her turn. The tires shrieked. Her heart stopped. Time stopped. She slammed the brakes. She wrenched the wheel. The Taurus swerved radically on the rural road and spun to a stop in the ditch.

Clouds of dust wafted past the frozen car. Lisa hysterically gasped for air. As she paused to regain her bearings, she lost self-control. She sobbed, arms crossed, into the cold steering wheel. _Lisa, it's just a stupid question. What is wrong with you?_

And Lisa wept helplessly on a roadside miles from home. "Jackson…" she whispered to herself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Jackson prepped himself for the call. He needed to exercise the utmost patience with this man. It wasn't so much the need to impress, as it was the need not to reach through the phone and choke him. Barnett was one of Jackson's most trusted friends. "He can't help his condition," Jackson told himself again and again.

He swallowed hard and dialed the number on the hotel room phone. After two rings, Barnett's friendly, familiar voice answered.

"Hello?" asked Barnett.

"Hey, Joey, it's me, Jackson."

"Jackson…" Barnett repeated. Jackson's nerves started to grind slowly. "What can I do for ya?"

Jackson sighed. "I need help. Ever hear of a town called Hillsdale?"

"A town called Hillsdale." Barnett echoed. Jackson lurched closer to the edge of insanity. "Sure man, that's about ten miles north of yours truly."

"Great, listen; I need a place to crash, off the radar."

"A place to crash, off the radar." Jackson's teeth began to grit. "Yeah dude, I know a guy who knows a guy."

"Hey," Barnett asked, "does this have something to do with Jill?"

"Jill? No, why?"

"Jill, No, why… she called me a month or two ago. Said she had some business in Hillsdale. Hey, I thought things were serious between you two."

"No," Jackson stated, "I loved my work more than I could ever love her. That and she's too eccentric for my taste. It ended two and a half years ago."

"It ended two and a half years ago… Sorry dude. Alright, I'll give this guy a call..."

The two men made their arrangements. Barnett echoed Jackson like a parrot, exasperating him further and further. By the conversation's end, Jackson's fist scrunched into a rigid ball.

"Thanks man. I'll see you tomorrow. I owe you one," Jackson stated. He hung up as he heard Barnett repeat, "…tomorrow, I owe you one."

Jackson laughed to himself. For years, he confided unspeakable secrets and confidentialities to this man. Talking to Joseph Barnett frustrated Jackson to no end. He entrusted his life to a man with echolalia. Luckily, Joey was coherent enough not to repeat vital facts at the wrong time. Still, the irony was never lost on Jackson. A man who repeated the last few words of every sentence he hears has kept Jackson safely in the shadows.

Jackson flicked the lamp off and lay, staring at the ceiling. _West Virginia? A far cry from home, isn't it Leese? _ He pictured it, Lisa hiding in the wilderness. Maybe she would change her name. Maybe she would booby trap her lawn. Maybe she would get a hundred cats and die alone.

_Not my Lisa…_ A twinge of guilt wrenched his stomach. _I did this, didn't I._ His logical mind strangled his brief moment of remorse with a rundown of tomorrow's plans.

First, he would wake up and shower. Then, check out and get to the airport. Fly to see Barnett. Restrain himself from strangling his old friend. Check in with this other guy, then look for 'his girl,' as Mason put it.

_Then what…_ Jackson stared blankly at the ceiling; his thoughts abandoned him. What the hell was he planning exactly? Torture her? Kill her? After what she did to him…

_You corner anyone, they'll do that. Just didn't expect it from her._ He berated himself. Exactly what did he expect her to do?

The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. Logically, he resolved to see what comes to mind when he gets there. Who knows, maybe Lisa, the reason for months of physical therapy, would walk away intact. Maybe she would never know he was there.

Jackson then remembered the last words he rasped to her, and he never breaks a promise. "We'll talk again…" That alone was principle enough get a final 'hello' at least. And why the hell did she pick Podunk West –fucking- Virginia? He had to find out.

_Jillian? They must not be too worried about Lisa putting up a fight. How have the years treated her?_

His thoughts and anticipation chattered ceaselessly. Jackson stared at the ceiling sleepless all night, and into the early morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Lisa lounged comfortably on the couch and stared at the shadows of her empty living room. Bruce rested his heavy head in her lap and closed his eyes contentedly. Her fingers vaguely caressed the feathery fur behind his massive ears. Outside, an owl called to the lonely house. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.

The phone broke the still silence. Bruce and Lisa flinched at the sudden intrusion. She sniffed and wiped her damp cheeks. She knew she had to sound composed. With a sigh, she plucked the phone from it's charger.

"Hello?" Lisa's voice still quivered.

"Hi honey." The familiar voice of her father reassured her. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she responded.

"You don't sound okay, do you want me to come up there for a bit?" Lisa knew this was a habitual phrase for her father. She was hundreds of miles away; he couldn't catch a cab.

"Dad… I'm fine, Bruce and I; we're just watching a movie…"

Joe sighed. "Honey, I just wanted to call and say I miss you and I'm worried about you."

Lisa chuckled. No matter how far away she was, daddy would always be daddy. "I miss you too dad."

"So," her father stammered uncomfortably, "learn any new moves?"

"Oh." She smiled. "Yeah, they taught me a few punches. The instructor says I'm doing well, and I should be ready for the next belt test soon. I just have to practice some falls."

"Leese," her father interrupted earnestly, "I want you to know I'm proud of you."

"Dad?"

"Even though I can't come to your rescue, I know you can take care of yourself."

"Dad…" Lisa blushed. She didn't consider herself that good at karate, but she knew enough to defend herself. She just hoped she would never use it. In the meantime, it kept her in shape.

"Okay honey, I think I've embarrassed you enough for one night," Joe conceded after a long, breathy pause. "Love you."

"I love you too dad." She hung up the phone and sighed. Bruce gazed quietly into her eyes.

"That was grandpa. He says hi." The dog swiped his paw over his face. She smiled. Her dad managed to save her from Jackson once again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Jackson shivered. It had been a while since he stayed this far north for any length of time. He waited impatiently in Barnett's idling Chevy outside the Night Owl Inn, Lisa's new job. According to the file he gathered from Mason's backseat, she managed the second shift, and went home after dark.

He scrutinized the forlorn building. This must have been a significant pay cut from the Lux Atlantic. The inn was far less grandiose, a two story motel with an empty parking lot. This place would have been one of those seedy motels raided by the police on national television.

The black and white photos sprawled on the passenger seat revealed a foreign woman to Jackson. Glimpses of a blonde through a distant diner window. Blurry shots of a woman in a white karate uniform with an undetermined belt color. Secluded photos of the Night Owl Inn, with Lisa jogging to her car. License plates. Her new home.

He picked up a picture of Lisa's face, staring with haunted eyes over her shoulder. The clearest piece of evidence he had. This was definitely 'his girl.' Her hair can change. Her expression can deepen with sorrow. She can carry a gun and learn Tae Kwon Do. Her home can move and a sea breeze can change into coffee, but she was still the same Lisa. He studied the photo, caressing it gently with his thumbs. _ Are you looking for me, Leese?_

Jackson heard a rustling in the darkness. The glass door of the Night Owl Inn swung open, and out stepped the blonde from the photos.

"Okay Rus, I'll see you tomorrow!" she called back into the office. Jackson's heart leapt. She was alive, and right in front of him. Feelings of murderous rage and compassionate mercy struck him like a bolt of lightning. He gasped. Jackson trailed the woman as she sprinted to her car, a blue-gray Taurus. He watched her stop to survey the parking lot. The same terrified expression distressed her face in the photo. Jackson let her crawl safely into her car and watched her pull away. The photos, the time sheets, and the behavioral notes had not prepared him to see her, living and breathing, a few feet before his eyes.

As her car vanished, he released his captive breath. The puff trembled into the darkness.

"Lisa…" he shuddered.

_Okay, where's Jill?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Bruce disappeared into the wilderness once again. Lisa leaned in the glass doorway impatiently.

"Come on Brucie… mummy's tired," she called to the darkened forest. She sighed. He always did this. Her loyal sentinel vanishes into the thicket for an absurd moment of privacy when nature calls. She quietly giggled to herself; A_t least out there, I don't have to clean it up._

Minutes passed, and the cold bore into Lisa's skin. She wrapped her arms and massaged her shivering flesh. Tiny snowflakes drifted through the air and melted on the frozen ground. Her spectral breath wisped from her lips. Here, in the deadening wind, she felt comfortably alone.

Ghosts often visited her. Cynthia's cheerful fearfulness. Her father's painful smiles. And Jackson…

She shook the phantoms as Bruce reemerged from the shadows. He wagged his tail with satisfied glee. His master ushered him though the welcome door. Lisa lingered in the numbing cold. The still night, fluttered with flurries, wrapped her in soothing obscurity. She took an icy breath that stung her lungs. The night was over.

As she gathered herself to turn in for the night, she caught a glimpse of the distant roadway. There, in the darkness, sat the black outline of a still vehicle. Its headlights cut into the darkness. She squinted. Her heart seized. The car turned. It was coming up her driveway. Bruce whined angrily as it approached. Lisa's neck pulsed. Her flesh tingled.

She reached behind her, to her black purse resting on the end table. Absently she pawed as the car crept closer. The headlights brighter and brighter, blinded her. Bruce barked, rattling her bones.

The car stopped, feet from her front door. Time paused. Lisa watched the door swing open. She grabbed her purse, the gun tucked safely inside. Hopefully she could at least scare them away. A woman's shapely suede boot stepped slowly on the gravel.

"'Scuse me. Sorry to bother you. I thought this was the road to 220," the redhead called as she emerged from the driver's seat.

Lisa shielded her eyes. "220?" she replied. Bruce growled menacingly behind her. She glowered at him, but he persisted. Frustrated, she closed the door.

"Yes…" The woman glanced at a crumble map cradled in her hands. "I guess I'm lost."

"Oh," Lisa sighed with relief. She dropped her head and recaptured her breath. As the terror left her, the cold returned. "It's a few miles away. You must have made a lot of wrong turns to end up here."

"Oh," moaned the strange woman, "I'll never make it to Petersburg at this rate!" The woman dropped the map in dismay. Lisa felt a twinge of pity for this wayward traveler.

"Do you have to be there tonight?" asked Lisa.

"No, tomorrow. My grandma passed away. I'm just so tired from all this driving…"

"Oh," Lisa replied consolingly. "I can show you where a motel is, and how to get to 220 from there. You could get some rest and try again later."

"Oh, thank you so much, you're an angel!" cheered the redhead happily. Lisa scrawled directions to the small Comfort Inn on the outskirts of the wilderness, and the car soon trekked back down the driveway. Lisa smiled and retired. Soon it occurred to her. The motion sensor didn't kick on.

As the woman pulled back onto the main road, she crumbled and tossed the scribbled directions into the backseat. She expertly navigated the rural roads to the Night Owl Inn.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Jackson knocked impatiently. A stir came from behind the blue wooden door. It creaked open, and two surprised hazel eyes peered at him from the shadows.

"Jackson?" she questioned.

"Jillian…" he gave her a definitive snarl. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"What are you doing here?" she snapped in a whisper, nervously inspecting the parking lot.

Jackson glared. "I thought I'd ask you the same thing."

The redhead swung the door open violently and pulled him in. "Get in here you idiot. If someone sees you…"

"Oh, but I'm dead, remember?" he quipped venomously. Jillian slammed the door, sealing them in a dark motel room.

"I'm just picking up where you left off _Jack_. It took months to track her down, while the great Jackson lays helpless in intensive care!" She stopped. "What do you mean 'you're dead?'"

"Please," he shouted. "I think you know. So what, are you making your move yet? Plan to run her off the road or something equally brash?"

"Hey not all of us are lucky enough to catch her on a return flight from a funeral! Bet that was nice, granny bumped up your plan a week, didn't she?"

"So what were you doing tonight? Gaining her trust? They say imitation is the best flattery. How long did it take your creative brain to think this up?"

"Fuck you Jackson!" she snapped. "You really aren't as good as you think you are, obviously. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you! She knows you, knows what you look like. You're an idiot for coming here!"

"No, they want me buried in a Las Vegas desert, where Mason is right now!"

Jillian stopped. Her anger dissipated. "Mason…" she questioned. Her eyes narrowed. Jackson smiled at her.

"Come on, grow up Jill. You know damn well, there is no honor amongst thieves. What do you think they'll do if you screw up? Give you a fucking medal?"

The air between the two was electric and silent. Jillian's eyes dropped shamefully.

"Jackson… I have work to do. Exactly what are you doing here?" Jillian's voice was cold and limp.

"Oh, just thought I'd stop by, catch up on old times. And, of course, warn you to beware of Lisa bearing a pen." He smiled again at the disarmed combatant and cracked open the motel door furiously. He turned, ready to leave.

"No Jackson, I meant… you came to see her again, didn't you?" she stammered, halting Jackson. He exhaled into the cold. His icy eyes traced the black wilderness beyond the empty parking lot. His heart stung. Jackson stood, frozen in Jillian's doorway.

"I mean," she continued, "she almost killed you, Jackson. Because of her, your life is over. You should thank me, but then again, it's just business." Jackson recalled his words to Lisa that night. _My business is all about you…_

Silently, Jackson stepped into the night and closed the door. He shuffled to the rusted Chevy, injured. He questioned himself; _exactly what ARE you doing here?_

Jillian stared angrily at the closed door. _Shit, this might not work._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"What is the matter with you, Bruce?" Lisa begged her dog as he growled incessantly at the darkness outside the door. Lisa checked the shadows time and time again to no avail. She finally resolved that it must be a rabbit or raccoon. Whatever it is that lives in these woods and agitates her dog. That must be it.

Just then, her spotlight winked on. The light pockets of snow glittered on the ground. Terrified, Lisa stood gazing at her illuminated driveway. _I thought it wasn't working earlier…_ A shadow darted through the brilliance. She thought fast. Her gun. Lisa dumped her purse and clutched the gun. Her head screamed, _how do I turn the stupid safety off again?_

Frustrated, she threw the door open. Bruce darted into the night, barking at the wilderness. Lisa stalked the darkness, gun in hand. The barrel peeked carefully around the corner. She stopped. The light dimmed once again, cloaking her in darkness. Bruce's distant barks kept her bearings as she pointed the gun to the shadows. She shook. Bruce fell strangely silent.

"Bruce…" she called.

The dog whined and returned to the house. Lisa turned, sparking the light on once again. _Just a rabbit or something… _She let Bruce in the house and placed the gun on the table. She stepped back into the darkness, closing the door behind her. Lisa waved to her malfunctioning spotlight, hoping to trigger it again.

"Just a ghost, Leese," a familiar voice chilled her shoulder. She turned. The spotlight lit once again, revealing that cold, memorable gaze. Lisa froze.

She whispered, barely catching her breath, "Jackson…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"You're here to kill me…" Lisa shivered. Jackson stared smugly into her terrified eyes.

"I thought I told you I'm a terrible shot," he countered. He couldn't stop his voice from trembling.

Lisa's body deadened. Her breath strained to escape. Tears glittered in her eyes.

"Then… what do you want with me?" she sniffed. _So much for moving, Bruce, the gun, karate…_ Jackson's observation echoed painfully in her head, _it was beyond your control._

"I…" Jackson started, but his voice fell short. His cold expression melted, and he deteriorated before her eyes. He dropped his gaze and stepped closer to her.

Her eyes widened, horror-struck. He stopped as he noticed her tense. His eyes timidly traced to her face again, back into her frightened stare.

"I've… scarred you," he breathed.

"What?" Lisa whispered. Tears rolled from her eyes.

Jackson stepped closer once again, ignoring her escalating dread. He raised a hand slowly and delicately traced her unnaturally blonde hair with his fingertips. Her hair, soft and elegant, fell gracefully over her face. She turned her cheek, wincing as if struck.

"Jackson… why are you here?" Lisa whispered insistently.

His hand dropped slowly. He turned his back to her, wounded. His breath shuddered.

"I don't know," he stated. Lisa's aching heart captivated her. "I thought I wanted to kill you, but I don't know anymore," he breathed.

"Wh-" Lisa started, but Jackson whirled, furiously cutting her off.

"Months of therapy, learning how to walk again, how to talk again. And when 'their' doctors are finished with me, they call me out to have me executed in the desert. Needless to say, because of you and daddy, I'm out of a job, and my life is in danger!" he shouted, angry tears stinging his eyes. Lisa blinked. _Stop gambling with your father's life… _Suddenly she realized, 'gambling with her father's life' meant gambling with Jackson's as well. Suddenly the truth had come to light. Suddenly, she felt ill.

"It doesn't matter anymore…" Jackson remarked. "I've scarred you… I've done my damage. I'm no better than the man who attacked you in broad daylight four years ago." The comment seared Lisa. She quietly stroked her trademark scar from atop her shirt.

"I still don't…" Lisa started, still shocked by Jackson's dispute.

"All of this. Moving up here in the middle of fucking nowhere. The dog. The gun. Not all scars are flesh, Lisa. That new job of yours, which, by the way, doesn't suit you. None of this suits you Leese. It's not who you are."

Tears streaked her frozen cheeks. "How would you know who I am?"

"I know you're not the same Lisa. You've changed yourself so much, and for what? Because of me? Because of what happened to you? You didn't just move on, you moved out."

"People change Jackson…" she cried bitterly.

Jackson laughed. "What are you gonna do? Become a crazy recluse? Manage a seedy motel east of bumfuck Egypt? Or, how about marrying Mary Sue's son… what's his name, Donald? Have a few rug rats? Fetch his beer for NASCAR? Then die at the ripe old age of forty from stress."

She sobbed hysterically. The sadistic attacks overwhelmed her. He ceased fire. Remorse gripped his throat as he watched her crumble.

Her strength failed her. All the training, the psychotherapy, and the self-help books meant nothing if her own heart could defuse her like this. He still saw through her with those piercing blue eyes. He was right. Lisa's knees wobbled and folded, tossing her face to the gravel. As she started to sputter and choke on her tears, Jackson swept down to catch her. Lisa nestled in the gentle warmth of his arms.

"I'm… sorry…" she shuddered. She lifted her face to him and pulled her hair back. Her fingers softly stroked the scar on his neck. Jackson flinched slightly. His own feelings of dread for this woman hid behind his logic, his aggression, and his fading need for retribution. _With her this close…_ He cupped his hand over her curious fingers and gently caressed her skin. His eyes were tender, honest and intense.

Jackson rose, pulling Lisa to him.

"Come on, we have to talk, and I should show you how to use that gun."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

After an uncomfortable orientation to Bruce, Jackson guided Lisa to her couch. She still teetered blindly with overwhelming sorrow. Lisa sank into the seat and shrunk, weeping. Jackson stood to tend to her. He frantically searched her cabinets for a glass, and returned with water as an initial peace offering. He then offered her a tissue from a well-used box on her end table. She accepted his gifts numbly, and stared at the carpet. Lisa remained motionless, her glass and tissue in hand, even as Jackson's weight sank the sofa beside her. His hand stroked the reprehensive hunch in her back.

"There's a few things I don't understand, Jackson," said a monotone Lisa finally. "First of all, why didn't Bruce tear you apart out there?"

Jackson motioned slyly to his jacket. Tucked safely in the inside pocket was a packet of doggy treats. Lisa nodded.

"I know how to neutralize people. What makes you think I don't understand dogs?" he said with a grin. She paused, staring at her hands. _Why couldn't I tear you apart?_

"Lisa…" he started. His voice shook, tattered from the earlier assault. "You need to know something."

"What's that…" her voice scraped timidly.

"They didn't send me here," he stated, "but they know where you are, and they have someone watching you."

Lisa turned her gaze to him. Her tears dried. "Why?" she gasped. She sipped the water and placed it on the end table.

"I'm not sure... I do know who they've sent to watch you, and believe me, you have very little to worry about. If you can handle me, you can sure as hell take her." He smiled warmly at her.

"Jackson…" her voice cracked and her eyes dropped again, "what I did to you… I don't think I can do that again." Lisa absentmindedly wrung her wrists as she spoke. "I don't know if you understand, but when I saw you laying there, bleeding on the floor… I… something in me just…" She cut herself off and squeezed the tears from her eyes.

Jackson watched her relapse, his face melting further. He leaned closer to her and whispered softly into her ear. "Lisa, you did the right thing."

"How can you say that?" she cried, muffled by her hands. She shook and shuddered.

"Lisa…" he continued to whisper. He brought his hand to her cheek and cleared the stray hair from her face. His hand dropped to hers and slowly persuaded them downward. "I gave you the choice between your father, your friend, or the bad guy. You chose to save the people you care about, and I admire you for it. You've done the right thing."

"But…" Lisa tried, discouraged. She sniffed. Her painful gaze watched the nap of the carpet.

"Everything isn't always black and white. You made your choice, and it was the best one possible, save them both. And I said, I admire you for it," Jackson stated matter-of-factly.

Lisa pouted, and continued to stare at the carpet. Jackson sighed, and resolved that his words were not sinking in. His hand rose to her cheek, and gently pulled her face to his. Finally, she looked him in the eyes.

"Lisa, I admire you for it…" he repeated. _Damn, I'm starting to sound like Barnett._ She stared into his eyes, blinking as the words absorbed.

Jackson leaned to her, hesitating. He waited for her to push him away, to tell him to get the hell out of her house and never come back. She didn't. . His lips delicately brushed hers. Gently he caressed her cheek and gently he kissed her trembling lips. Bruce whined at the pair from across the room.

Fire prickled through Lisa's body, from the tips of her fingers to the pit of her stomach. Time stopped. Her heart was on the verge of bursting. Lisa tensed. Jackson stopped. He pulled away, humiliation in his eyes. Now Jackson stared at the carpet, ashamed. The silence pierced.

Lisa touched her fingers to her stunned lips. The kiss lingered, on their lips and in the air. A phantom that renewed Lisa and tormented Jackson. She had not been kissed like that, so tender and loving, in years. Hell, she had not been kissed in years. She breathed. Jackson remained motionless.

"That pen broke my heart…," he voiced quietly.

Lisa's brow furrowed. "I don't understand…," she whispered.

Jackson sighed. "What I saw in you before, your selflessness, your compassion, your purity… all of it came to a head with that stupid pen. It hurt me, but it killed you… That's all I've thought about for two years, that stupid pen. "

Lisa turned her stare back to the carpet. She sighed. "Jackson… I moved here six months after it happened. I bleached my hair nine months after. I started taking karate one year later, and I bought the gun two months ago… I don't even know how the stupid thing works. " Lisa paused. She took a breath. "I knew, no matter how far away I went I would see you again. I just… didn't know what would happen when I did. I didn't know if you would choke the life out of me, or if you were just as confused as I was that day on the plane…," she confessed.

"Sometimes I… wanted you to come back, for selfish reasons. I wanted to see you again," she continued, "sometimes it terrified me."

Jackson smiled. "Stockholm Syndrome?" he chuckled. He looked at her and smiled. _Screw it,_ he thought. He cupped her chin and brought her lips back to his. He hesitated once again.

"I've missed you, Leese," he whispered, and kissed her. This time she yielded and surrendered. She returned the kiss and braced him with a steady hand. Lisa tasted tears that she knew were not her own.

As they parted, he touched his forehead to hers, resting and breathless. She wiped the glittering streaks from his cheeks affectionately.

"Jackson, there's something else I don't understand…" she whispered.

"Mmm?" his voice trembled once again.

She broke away. "Why didn't they kill you when you were in the hospital? For terrorists they didn't seem to think that through."

Jackson eyes widened. His face blanched in abrupt terror. _You stupid son of a bitch… Why didn't you see it before?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The two talked through the night, and into the early morning hours. Soon Lisa's words softened and slowed. Her eyes drifted shut and her head rested. Her body grew limp and motionless. She nestled comfortably on Jackson's chest. Jackson pulled an afghan from the back of the couch and draped it on Lisa's shoulders. He took a mental guess that this was a gift from Mary Sue. She snuggled into him and snored lightly.

Jackson stared silently into the blackness outside the door. Bruce continued his nightly vigil. They stood watch together until the winter sky lightened to a murky grey, guarding their sweet Lisa. Jackson stroked her hair quietly, careful not to wake her. Soon, he drifted to sleep as well, with Lisa in his arms. They slept, free of the phantoms of their past, for the first time in years.

Lisa woke to a slimy tongue caressing her cheek. Nature called again. Bruce needed to go outside. It was late in the morning, almost noon. She rose, shocked at first at Jackson's presence, but remembering the previous night. As she cleared the sleep from her head, she ushered Bruce out the door, quietly cautious not to disturb Jackson.

Hours passed, and Jackson woke. Their conversation from the evening continued. Throughout the course of the day, Jackson finally showed Lisa how to turn off the safety on her gun. When the evening hours came, the heavy snowfall outside their door began. Soon a pockmarked blanket frosted the ground, and blades of grass jutted to the surface. The sun set and the darkness was a hazy blue.

Lisa was calm. For the first time in years, Jackson, the reason for such radical changes in her life, soothed her. Her warm smile glowed throughout the snowy day.

Bruce howled at the door. Lisa froze. Jackson jumped to the door and surveyed the night.

"A car… I'll bet I know what this is about…," he said bitterly. He handed Lisa her gun and ran over his instructions to her one last time. Fear widened her stare and stiffened her hands.

"I'll be here to protect you…," he said. The car crept closer up her driveway. He kissed her forehead, as if the kiss alone would infuse confidence in her. She breathed and composed herself to greet the approaching car. As she stepped out the door, Jackson seized her arm anxiously, halting her.

"I love you Leese…," he whispered. Her eyes smiled. With that, she marched out the door, the gun tucked safely behind her back. He slinked against the wall.

The motion detector flicked on as the car crunched to a stop. Out stepped the redhead from before.

"Hey, I just wanted to thank you… You were a big help!" she called.

Lisa dropped her guard. "Oh, yeah. So… how did it go?" Lisa asked, consolingly.

"It was a funeral… my grandma meant so much to me… I…" she said. She started to sob. Lisa watched curiously.

"Your grandma died when you were ten, Jill. The other when you were nineteen," Jackson growled over the feigned tears. The redhead spun around, now face to face with Jackson's cold stare.

"Shit…," she cursed. With that, she pulled a gun from her purse and trained it to Lisa. "Jackson, you're slipping…" she spat, "I expected her to be dead by now." Lisa shook and quickly whipped her gun in front of her.

"Please honey…" Jill said menacingly as she shook her head.

"And how long did you think it would take me to figure out 'they' didn't send you?" he asked.

Lisa's eyes narrowed and her brow creased. "What?" she winced.

"Come on Jill, I know Mason's the only one who will buy your bullshit. You set me up." Jackson snarled.

"I didn't expect you to fucking shoot him _Jack!_ 'You don't work with guns,' remember? Your mouth is your weapon."

"He pulled a gun on me. You knew he had a sack of shit between his ears. What did you tell him to do anyway?"

"He was supposed to give you an ultimatum. Leave with her file and don't contact us again, or die like a dog."

"Brilliant plan… you know I'm not suicidal."

"What is going on?" Lisa snapped furiously.

"Right, Lisa. I'd like you to meet my ex, Jill. She's the sorry, stupid girl who sent a real moron to set me up, so I would come out here to kill you, and then she could have me to herself. No work and no Lisa. She's also the one who sabotaged your motion sensor while you were at work. So you just wanted to sweep in and scoop up the ashes when everything else in my life was destroyed."

Jill's face contorted furiously. The gun shook in her hand, still pointed at Lisa's chest.

"Dammit Jackson, you broke it off with me and I find out you're sitting on this… this… Girl Scout! Did you know, Lisa, you were all he talked about for weeks?"

Lisa watched them nervously. Her breath froze. Her cheeks froze. The snow fell in the space between them.

"Months after, in therapy, all he ever talked about was that goddamn pen, and Lisa, and this and that. You really fucked him up, bitch. I just wanted to show him how bad things could have got. "

Jackson whipped his hidden gun and pointed it the back of her head. "You want to do me a favor and take the gun off Lisa?"

"What, so you two can go inside and continue playing 'house' It was never about the work, was it Jackson. It was about her! You never liked that job! I would say you can't pull the trigger, but after what you did to Mason!"

"Jack and Jill?" Lisa mocked. Two pairs of eyes glared at her. She couldn't help but giggle.

"Shut up you fucking cunt!" Jill spat.

The light winked off again, and darkness shrouded the trio. A blast blared the night, and struggling broke the silence.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Lisa's eyes adjusted and she saw two silhouettes combating in the snow. She tumbled. Her shoulder seared with electric pain. She cradled it with icy fingers as dark blood pooled on the white ground. Her worthless gun lay in the ice. She heard slaps, kicks and punches.

The two figures before her fought furiously, kicking snow in her face. The pain dulled her vision and clenched her teeth. Finally, the female shadow kicked the male in a choice area, dropping him to his knees. She fled. Jackson's apparition choked painfully in the snow.

Lisa felt a rough grasp yank her to her feet. The spotlight glared once again, to reveal Jackson doubled over, spitting on the ground with tears in his eyes. His mouth was bloodied and his clothes were tussled. He panted, and looked at Lisa in dismay.

"Don't move asshole…" Jill snapped, her breath still furious. She snatched Lisa and held the gun to her skull.

"You can't kill her, but I can." Lisa shook and squeezed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. A metallic taste poisoned her mouth from the burning pain in her shoulder. Jill jerked her arm, the agony stabbing her further.

Jackson caught his breath. He laughed. "Same old Jill, always hitting below the belt," he wheezed.

"Hey, fuck you Jackson. I loved you once, before _she_ came along. Now, I don't know. I might just kill you too." With that, she pulled the gun from Lisa's head and pointed it at Jackson. "How poetic, you can die the same way Mason did."

With the gun away, Lisa stamped Jill's foot, brutally crushing her ankle. Her useful elbow drove into Jill's stomach, forcing the wind from her body. Jill bent forward. Lisa whirled and drove an uppercut into the attacker's ready jaw. Jill fell. Lisa knowledgably followed her, and struck her vulnerable ribs. Jill lay unconscious on the ground. Lisa gasped for breath, removed from herself.

As Jill remained motionless, Lisa dashed to Jackson's side. He waved his hand dismissingly.

"I'll be fine, she just took a cheap shot," he assured her. The two rose, battered and watching the sedate Jill cautiously. Snowflakes fluttered, encapsulating them.

"Not bad." Jackson commented to Lisa, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"Well, I am going up for my belt test in a few weeks." She smiled back. Jackson acknowledged her silently.

"We should call the paramedics for you, and the police for her," Jackson noted, motioning to each woman respectively.

"Yeah…" With that, Lisa wrapped her working arm around his shoulders and pulled him to her. She kissed him. He froze. Awe consumed him. The pair stood in the gentle snowfall, locked in their embrace. The ghosts faded, the world faded…

Jackson broke away and twirled Lisa behind him. His gun flared, and shot a conscious, fuming Jill in the chest. Lisa watched as Jill silently dropped, her gun, trembling and worthless. The redhead fell forward, her face in the snow, and bled. Jill was dead.

Lisa buried her sullen, tired face into Jackson's coat. She nuzzled there, comfortably. He watched Jill, panting as if she would get up again. Resolute, he tossed the gun into the snow and enveloped Lisa in his arms.

"Jack and Jill?" Lisa chuckled. Her exhausted smile turned up to Jackson.

"Shut up Lisa...," he said, smiling back.

**END**


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